Secrets and a Bottle of Sauvignon
by SymphonyinA
Summary: After four months of marriage, Erik prepares for Christine's birthday. But she has a surprise for him as well, one that could completely change their relationship. Fluffy three-part marriage fic, Leroux-based
1. Chapter 1

**I'm busy, having a bit of writer's block (again), so I might not post chapters for a while. But here's a fluffy random one-shot! It's not connected to lilacs or anything else, just a plain, average little fic of a happy marriage of four months.**

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Christine shifted in bed, turning away from him. Other nights Erik might have attempted, gingerly, to pull her back, but not tonight.

Tomorrow was the angel's birthday... well, today, it was four in the morning. But he couldn't sleep late. He had to prepare.

The meals were planned out, all Swedish, from what she had taught him. Her French cuisine was a nightmare but what she could do with a fish astounded him. Even if his taste was hindered by his lack of a nose, he could cook quite well himself, so Swedish cuisine wasn't too difficult for him.

But the day had to be perfect, of course. He had all her presents already wrapped and tied with bright bows in the drawing room. He had restrained himself to ten, per her request.

"Erik?" She called groggily. "Where are you? Come back to bed, you need to sleep."

He obeyed her without a thought, and soon she had wrapped her lovely arms about his waist and fallen asleep.

Well, he could wait to prepare for a little while. It was so strange to be with someone else at night, to actually want to go to bed instead of collapsing upon his piano in exhaustion. They had consummated the marriage only a few times, all at Christine's request, but, though it was such a lovely thing for a husband and wife to do, he didn't exactly... desire it. If she asked, he was only too happy to oblige, but he was content either way. And besides, the more times, the more likely she would have a baby, regardless of his many precautions against it.

As he stared at her, where she curled around him, he couldn't help being pleased with himself at her state. It was near certain she loved him now. She had her round face back, though he had never seen it before, only the shadow of it. And most of her seemed to be growing, which he didn't oppose to in the slightest, after all, it meant she was happy and well-cared for.

Once his wife was definitely asleep, he slid out of bed to finish pacing about the drawing room in fear and anticipation. He knew when she pretended to like something, and when her heart truly swelled with delight. It was all in her eyes, her crystal-blue eyes that crinkled at the edges when she was truly enraptured, or remained slack if she was simply being polite.

He hummed a Swedish tune Christine had sung often under his breath as he darted about frantically for no reason. Everything was already prepared.

Perhaps he should check on the wine, put a bow on it or something. She had always politely accepted the expensive choices he offered her, but she had only recently revealed that she preferred Sauvignon. So he had purchased a bottle of the best for the occasion.

He found himself in different chair, twiddling his thumbs in his lap and humming. He didn't want her to wake, but then again, he did. He wanted to shower her with gifts, praise, and affection until she giggled and blushed like a little girl.

Could he have such a gift?

He passed three hours like that. Then he heard her bare footsteps stumble out of bed. It took a little while for her eyes and mind to return from sleep, but he didn't mind.

The door opened.

"Erik?" She yawned, rubbing her half-shut eyes. "Are you preparing something for me? Is that why you kept getting up all hours of the night?"

She was still in her nightgown and bare white feet powdered in freckles. He had taken them to the beach for a few days, and the poor thing had refused her parasol on a cloudy one and burned horribly. It had healed into freckles, which he found adorable.

"Do I need to close my eyes?" She teased. "Let me kiss you, bend down so I can reach."

He always felt when she kissed him as if he had been a dead man walking and suddenly brought back to life. And what did she see in his corpse body, anyway?

"Ooh, are those for me?" She beamed, glancing at the pile of gifts. "How many?"

"Only ten."

"How sweet you are, thank you... I think I'm going to have a bath, unless you wanted me to open them now?"

"No, have a bath, anything you want. I need to make breakfast."

"What type of breakfast?"

"You'll see."

"I was hoping you would do something like this, I was worried you might, well... You know. But this is lovely, thank you, dear. I'll be quick with my bath-"

"No, no, however much time you want."

"If you insist. Kiss me before I go back into my room, won't you?"

He bent down towards her forehead. She blocked him with her hand.

"No, Erik dear, on my lips. You're so shy of my lips, they won't hurt you."

"They'll be the death of me."

"Perhaps."

He loved her teasing. She was absolutely adorable with her mischievous smile, and the way she praised him with such ease during it. How wonderful she was...

She slipped away to her bath, and he was left with her warm kiss upon his lips. His hand grazed over the spot, admiring it in awe.

He shook himself out of his lovestruck daze and went off to make her breakfast. She had actually been refusing to eat in the mornings due to nausea, but a few days ago it had gone away.

Once the table was laid out, he waited patiently for her in his chair. Yes, he had said she could take however long she wanted, but her presence was so exhilarating he wanted to be with her at every instant. Of course, she wouldn't say no to him sitting in the bathroom with her-

No, no, he couldn't do that. She should have time away from him, no matter how much pain it caused him.

The angel knew of his mind, though, and skipped into the dining room after only a half hour, with her hands clasped behind her back as if concealing a secret.

"Are you hiding something?" He asked.

She shook her head, displaying her hands, "What would I be hiding? Oh, this all looks lovely. I'm glad I'm able to eat it now, after my bad stomach."

He pulled out her chair and slid her back in, delighted by her praise. She permitted him to serve her, though she often insisted not to be treated like a child. Today, however, she didn't seem to want a petty argument.

"Thank you," she said, beaming. "So, is anything planned, or are we staying here? I don't mind either way."

"Anywhere you want to go. Perhaps shopping?"

She folded her lips in an odd manner, "That would be nice... Perhaps this afternoon? For the morning we can play music."

"It's not my birthday-"

"I want to play music... and I love my husband," she beamed.

She had taken only a few bites when she stood up.

"I'm sorry," she told him. "I'm a bit... excited, I think."

"Of course, yes. Do you want to open your gifts?"

"If you want me to now, yes."

She placed herself on the sofa, adjusting her skirts and smiling at him. He brought the gifts to her. Shoes, jewelry, dresses, combs, all manner fell into her lap, and she thanked him genuinely each time.

He didn't know when his birthday was, but this was a birthday for him as well, he thought.

"I have a surprise for you, too," she told him, admiring a sapphire brooch he had purchased.

"But it's not my birthday."

"Well, I... Actually, I'll wait to tell you until later, I think."

"Why?"

"I'm a bit nervous to say is all."

"Nervous? Why would you be nervous?"

"I'm afraid you won't like it."

He laughed, "Why wouldn't I like any surprise you give me?"

She folded her lips again. A hand seemed to pass unconsciously over her abdomen, and Erik suspected for a moment before shoving the idea away. It wasn't possible.

But it _was_.

It wasn't.

It _was_.

"Erik, dear?" Christine asked from where she stood beside him.

He was at the piano, "Hm?"

"You seem distracted. Aren't we going to play?"

"Of course, my darling, What piece?"

"Why, that one, we just discussed it."

"Oh... I suppose I was distracted."

She kissed his forehead, "There, that'll clear your head. Better?"

He mouthed, "better," his eyes wide with wonder.

The morning was devoted entirely to music, until he had to go make lunch. Christine placed herself upon the sofa again, and Erik stole glances as he prepared the table.

Why wasn't she smiling? Was he taking too long? And why was she staring at the floor? Had he said something? Done something?

"Lunch is ready," he said.

Her lovely face lit again, "Oh, good, I'm excited to see what it is... Ooh, I thought you said you disliked meatballs?"

"It's your birthday. Don't you like them?"

"They were my favorite as a girl... thank you."

"Let's hope they're better than last time."

She laughed. They were far better than the rocks he had created before, almost as good as when she had made them.

Once they finished, she asked gently, "Erik, would you go sit on the sofa? I have your surprise now."

He obeyed, bewildered as she disappeared into her room. There was the opening and shutting of a drawer, and then she emerged, something clutched between her hands. Her lips were taut.

She gave a nervous smile, "Here it is."

She handed him two tiny blue socks.

"Those are too small for me, Christine, my love," he said, not wanting to admit the truth to himself.

"It's for a baby, Erik... o-our baby."

The socks fell from his hand. He stared blindly ahead.

No. No, he had misheard.

"I'm sorry, my dear," he told her, "I seemed to have been daydreaming. What did you say?"

She took his hands and placed them against her stomach, "I'm going to have a baby."

He had heard correctly. Upon realizing this, he promptly fainted.

He found Christine tending to him as he had to her long ago, dabbing at his temple with a cool cloth.

"I didn't expect you to faint," she whispered. "I should've waited, only... I thought if we were going to go shopping, we should prepare."

"For what?"

"The baby- don't faint again- I'm having a baby. I've said it three times now, stop pretending like you didn't hear."

He began to sob, falling to her feet, "Forgive me, I didn't mean to, I shouldn't have-"

She attempted to pull him to his feet, "Erik, please, I'm happy about it. I am!"

"But the child can't live down here, with _me_. You'll have to go live in an apartment with it, and then come visit me-"

"What are you _talking_ about? You had said before that you wanted to live in a normal house. Well, let's go live in a normal house, with a baby like a normal couple."

"But we can't be normal, it'll look like _me_. You want another me?"

"I love you."

"Then you're mad!" He cried, and she crossed her arms in dismay. "I... I didn't-"

"No. You still don't believe I love you... Maybe this baby will show you, then... Now," she sighed, "I would love to spend the afternoon preparing for him or her, won't you take me shopping like you promised?"

"I... I can't, I..." He sobbed. "I can't be a father! Oh, it'll hate me, everyone hates me except for you... everyone hates Erik except you..."

"Our child won't hate you-"

"And what if it hurts you?! Oh, babies are horrible to women, they can do such terrible things-"

"You need to calm yourself. Why don't you compose for a little while? Or read a book? I could read to you, would that help?"

"I'm going to compose," he decided, hurrying off to his room and shutting the door.

His head was screaming 'no,' and he put his hands over his ears in despair. A baby! What if she... died? She could! No no no, she could!

He wallowed in pity for quite some time until Christine had had enough, and she knocked on his door.

"Can we go shopping now?" She asked, then reminded him, "For my birthday?"

Her birthday... yes, he had to be her slave more than ever, anything she wanted to do...

He dragged himself out of the room, the gaping hole in his nose still leaking. Disgusting, he was disgusting, how could Christine love him? And how would her child ever feel anything but disgust for him?

She reached over to him with a handkerchief, "It's alright, Erik dear. Everything's going to be alright."

He nodded, putting on his false nose once he had cleaned up a bit.

"It's a little crooked," she told him, righting it. "There you are... Thank you."

"For what?" He croaked.

"Taking me regardless of how much I know you must be feeling right now... You're a very caring husband."

He gave a halfhearted nod. They went out to the little wharf. She lowered herself into the boat, and he pushed it off, starting to row.

They barely made it a half hour before Erik begged to return home from shopping. They hadn't bought anything, but Christine agreed. He wasn't well.

He spent the rest of the afternoon in tears, unable to express everything bottled up inside him in any other way. He said something incoherent about his mother, and Christine comforted him.

"I love you," she whispered. "Everything will be alright."

"I'm going to buy a house," he replied from where he was buried in her skirts.

She ran her hand across his back, "A real house with ordinary windows and doors."

"A real house..."

At some point, he ran out of tears and she read a book for a while as he contemplated further. Then he went to make dinner.

He had quite forgotten about the Sauvignon. Perhaps he should show her now?

He brought it out nervously, "Christine?"

She set her book in her lap, "Oh, did you buy special wine for dinner?"

"You said you liked Sauvignon."

She bit her lip, "I... meant blanc."

"You prefer white wine?"

"Well, I'll drink red, it's just... so rich, I prefer the white wines... Does that offend you?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, setting it atop the table dejectedly.

"There wasn't a time to-"

"There is always a time!" He cried. "Everything has to be perfect for you, how dare you let it not be?!"

"Erik, calm down-"

"I love you! How can I be calm when you're so disappointed?! What a terrible mess your birthday is, with me crying like a child over what you're delighted for, a mess! I'm an awful husband!"

He went into the kitchen and slammed the door. Why had he done that? He hadn't meant to, it had just come out... He had been doing so well with his temper, it rarely ever flared now, and he had just thrown a proper tantrum in front of her.

She knocked on the door, "Erik, my love?"

She only ever said that when she was truly concerned for him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, beginning to cry herself. "I wanted the baby, and I didn't even ask you properly if you wanted one, when I should've, it's my fault. We should've decided together and _I_ decided-"

"It's your right as the wife to want a baby," he whispered.

"No. We should've decided together, I should've told you I was hoping for one... I'm sorry."

The door opened, and he came out with his hideous face coated in tears. She brushed a few away with her very own hands.

"We're going to buy a house," she told him gently. "Furnish it, move into it, then I'm going to have a baby. And we'll live a perfect, happy, normal life... Alright?"

She smiled up at him, and he nodded blankly.

"Alright..." he whispered.

"Will you forgive me?"

"Of... course."

She pulled his lips to hers, and he finally began to believe her. Everything would be alright.

Perhaps better?


	2. Chapter 2

**I have never had such bad writer's block before, my goodness. I can't seem to get anything written so I've just put it all on hiatus. Of course, this came, because that's how this sort of thing works.**

 **Bit more T rated here, not borderline M by any means, but involves discussion of lovemaking and preparation for. I typically avoid that stuff, so let's see how my first attempt goes... But it's still pretty mild, as usual in my writing.**

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 _Three months later..._

 _Crash_.

Christine sat bolt upright in bed. The space beside her was unoccupied, yet again.

She sighed as she put on her slippers and headed downstairs. It was so nice to be in a real house and not in the fifth cellar inside a replica of one. At least there, though, he had remained holding her all night and not paced the house, wringing his hands.

"Erik?" She called softly. "Erik, my darling, why aren't you in bed?"

She received silence. He ought to be at the piano, he was always playing late at night. She shuffled into the music room, and there he was, collapsed upon the keys in exhaustion, unmasked. She tapped his shoulder.

"Erik?"

His head shot up and hit her nose. She rubbed it, wincing.

"Forgive me, my love," he pleaded, turning to her. "I didn't mean to- are you _hurt_?!"

"It was an accident, I startled you-"

"I hurt you?" He whimpered, sinking to his knees before her. "What have I done?!"

She sighed irritably, " _Nothing_. It's really nothing, it doesn't hurt... Come to bed and I'll forgive you."

He moaned and ran his hand through his sparse hair, "No, I can't go to bed..."

"Why not?"

"Because..." His hand reached to clasp his arm.

"Oh," she crooned, tucking his head into her chest. "Nightmares again?"

He sobbed openly into her bosom. She ran her hand over his head to soothe him, and he clutched her arms in desperation.

"I don't want you to leave me," he pleaded.

"I'm not leaving you. Women have children all the time-"

"But then what if it's-?"

"You think I'm cruel enough to despise my own child?... I'm not your mother. I love you."

"I love you... I love you more than anything..."

"Let's go to bed now, don't you think?" She offered, kissing his forehead. "It's late."

He nodded weakly, awed by the touch of affection, as always. They shuffled upstairs and she insisted upon them being wrapped together beneath the covers.

"Are you sure your comforta-?"

"Yes, dear," she replied, nuzzling into him. "Perfectly comfortable."

She fell asleep upon shutting her eyes, as usual, but Erik stared up at the ceiling. There were so many things to worry about. Would Christine make it through the birth? Would the baby look like him? Would she love it regardless?

Or... would she love it _more_? If he gave her a cute, perfect little child then... Would she love him? Yes, he wanted her to have a perfect infant, but would he be neglected?

In the morning, she kissed him the moment his eyes had opened.

"I'm feeling a little silly this morning," she teased, sliding on top of him. "Do you feel the same, or no?"

He slid out from under her, wrapping his arms about himself, "No, no, Erik shouldn't..."

"Why not? I'm not going to force you, of course, that's ridiculous..." She squinted, considering a question she had wondered for quite some time, "Do you not like making love?"

"I... it's nice."

"But what?"

His arms tightened, "What about the baby?"

"I've already explained to you, it won't harm the baby."

"But it's... bigger now, a-and... What if you fall off the bed, or something goes wrong?"

"What would go wrong?..." She came up cautiously behind him and rubbed his shoulders. "Do you want to, or not?"

"I want to..."

She leapt up and kissed his neck, as it was all she could easily reach from where she was, "We've never made love in the morning before."

He tensed, "O-oh. The light."

"Light? I've seen you unmasked before-"

"But not... _undressed_."

She crossed her arms, "We made the agreement _seven months ago_ that if I didn't see you undressed, you couldn't see me."

"But then you decided to give me the privilege regardless."

" _Please_ , Erik-"

"Why do you even _want_ to see me? What can this disgusting corpse offer you?"

"You're not a corpse. You're a man, my husband, and I _love_ you."

"But... I'm death, my love."

"You're my husband, just a man... You can wear a shirt, what about that?"

"No... You're right," he sighed miserably. "It's not fair..."

His hands fumbled with the buttons before falling back to his side. He inhaled and continued.

"All of Erik is ugly," he whispered.

She smiled up at him, "I don't think so... Do you need help-?"

"No, no, it might take me a... little while."

"All the time you need," she replied, sprawling herself out on the bed. "I'll just be _lying_ here, waiting _patiently_."

"Don't talk like that yet, at least give me a bit of time."

She giggled, "Maybe I'm not so patient."

He inhaled sharply, and the white fabric fell. She gasped.

"W-what... h-happened?" She whispered, her eyes roaming over the scarred skin in horror. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"It looks worse than it felt," he replied, trembling ever so slightly, but unmoving.

"I didn't... realize."

He exhaled and turned around. Her blue eyes were wide with pity, and he found she had been in the process of removing her nightgown. She had already revealed quite a bit of skin, revealing the niche between her breasts.

"Come here, my love," she offered gently.

"I don't need to be coddled-"

"I can coddle you if I like," she retorted, pulling him to her chest and kissing his forehead. "We don't have to if you don't want to now-"

"No," he said hurriedly. "How beautiful you are..."

She giggled at his kisses. It had surprised him at first that she found the act so amusing... At least, the first part of it. He was too shy to say hardly anything unless he couldn't help it, but she found immense enjoyment in teasing him, and he simply let her.

The only time he didn't want to be control was during their most intimate moments.

These instances increased at Christine's bidding, which had a remarkable effect on him. He didn't spend time doubting her love for him when he had proof of it every week or so. He almost forgot he was hideous, when she covered it up in kisses and caresses, like his face was soft and normal, rather than hollowed like a skull's.

She swelled up more and more by the day, and Erik grew more and more anxious from it. She insisted with him that she was safe.

He still didn't believe it. When she came over to him, clutching her womb with her features taut in pain, he didn't have any more faith. Why, he thought that was the end of her. The one light in his world, extinguished due to the child _he_ had given her. He had as good as poisoned her!

But he ran to a midwife, brought her back, and then was shooed out to wait and listen. Writhing, distraught, holding his hands over his ears, he waited. He waited and waited and he went _mad_.

When would it be done? His poor Christine, how long of this agony?

His hollow cheeks stung as she shouted something in Swedish, and then an insensible prayer to the lord, it seemed. _He_ began to pray in desperation as well.

It was hours and hours of _hell_. That was all he could describe it as, until his beloved's moans dissolved into relieved pants.

And then there was a bright cry of life. The world ceased turning for just a moment as it met his ears. His lips fell apart in wonder. Christine gave a sob of relief.

"When can..." she asked from the other room, "my husband... see?"

"Let me clean you both up a bit," the old midwife replied, "and the afterbirth should come any minute now."

Perhaps Erik fainted, because the next moment the door was opened to him, and he floated inside as if in a dream. Oh, what a beautiful dream it was, Christine smiling down at a white bundle, perfectly well and content.

"It's a boy," she said softly.

"Is he perfect?" Erik pleaded, kneeling beside the bed.

"I think so, like an angel."

"But is he... perfect?"

She sighed, "Yes, Erik, he's _perfect_. But you're perfect, too, so hush... Sit down, I'll let you hold him."

"H-hold him?"

"Of course. Hold your son."

"What's his name?" He asked hurriedly, hoping to perhaps distract her.

"We should name him together."

"You mentioned naming him after your father."

She beamed, her eyelids heavy from exhaustion, "Gustav, then... I'm so hungry, would you mind making me something to ea-?"

He was already downstairs. She chuckled to herself and dipped her finger down for the infant to grab.

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 **I know the scarred skin thing is overused, but it just makes sense for Erik, so why not?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sweet, sweet fluff and angst.**

 **Last part of the little fic.**

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Erik insisted that Christine do absolutely nothing after she had given birth. Though in well-to-do families, usually the mother was given a few days to be alone with her child, Christine refused.

"It would distance you from Gustav and me," she explained.

But that happened regardless, even though Erik became her slave, tending to all her needs while she tried to divide her attentions equally between her child and husband. But this proved impossible.

She devoted herself to Gustav. She was always feeding him, changing him, or rocking him to sleep. He was always occupying the softest parts of her, even when she sang. It made Erik feel quite alone and unloved.

Whenever the baby fell asleep, for a couple hours at a time, Christine was usually tired as well, therefore leaving Erik _still_ devoid of her. She offered for him to rest with her, but it wasn't the same. And at night, he would curl up against her, and just as he had begun to fall asleep, her little thing would start whining and bawling for her.

So he composed. He dedicated himself to writing a piece for Christine, to distract himself, but nothing was perfect enough for her.

As he ceased this for a moment, he found that Christine had fallen asleep on the sofa, and left the baby in its lace-trimmed bassinet at her feet.

He drifted over to her, smiling gently at her sleeping form. Then his eyes found the baby. It was beautiful, he granted, and he swelled with pride at giving Christine something she loved so much. Then his heart swiftly deflated.

She didn't love him anymore, at least not as much. Not with a perfect little baby around.

He kneeled down next to it, driven entirely by curiosity. It had a great pink mark on its head, an "angel's kiss," Christine had called it. The little hair it had was blonde and like down. Its lips were a little pink "o," its hands in fists atop its pastel-blue blankets.

But something made him uneasy. How _could_ this baby be so beautiful? How could Christine have wanted to have one of his children, either? It didn't make sense...

And that was when he inhaled sharply in realization. The baby had been born earlier than Christine had suspected. The baby was beautiful...

 _The baby wasn't his!_

That night, he fled to the fifth cellar to wallow in self-pity. That was why Christine had pretended to love him enough to share his bed! She had to conceal that the child was another's! Sanity and logical reasoning had left him.

She wasn't _his_. He bemoaned this as he wept, then realized something worse. He wasn't _hers_. The boy was hers, the boy had received her love instead of him.

No one loved him after all!

He remained beneath the opera house for only two days before he remembered that Christine couldn't be left alone for so long. Regardless of her betrayal, he loved her too much to leave her alone with her baby. She needed his help or else she would exhaust herself.

So he dragged himself back to the house, and entered to find Christine on the sofa, her eyes puffy from crying. The baby lay in the bassinet at her feet, fast asleep.

She gasped, "Erik! Where did you go? I was so worried!"

She ran at him to embrace him, but he grabbed her wrists and refused her. Her arms fell to her sides.

"I know," he said coldly.

Her brow furrowed in confusion, "Know what?"

"Don't feign innocence. Admit it."

"Admit what?... I don't understand. What's this about? What's wrong?"

He stormed off to sit at the piano, barely containing the painful fire growing within him. Für Elise issued from his restless fingertips.

She placed her hand upon his shoulder, "Why are you upset? Talk to me, Erik, you owe it to me after disappearing for two days without so much as a note."

"As you did before our wedding."

Her hand fell, "What are you talking about?"

He rose suddenly, demanding, "Whose child is that, _my love_?"

Her lips parted. Then her features hardened as her arms crossed.

"The child is ours," she replied firmly. "How dare you accuse me of such a thing? You know Raoul was no more than my friend, and when was I ever alone with him away from your gaze? Gustav is the product of _our_ love, no other's."

"But he's beautiful. How can he be beautiful with this," he gestured to his face in disgust, "as a father?"

"How could he not?" She replied, staring up at him with soft eyes. "You must trust me more. I love you. You still doubt this, but I do love you, as my _husband_... I'm sorry that you don't seem to understand that I am _never_ going to leave you. I love you enough to have a child with you, for heaven's sake, isn't that proof enough? To spend nights in your arms, is that not enough to prove my devotion and love of you?"

He fell to her feet, sobbing, "Forgive me, forgive me, it's impossible to believe someone would actually love Erik!"

She sank to her knees with him, holding his head to her chest and running her hand through his sparse hair.

"Shh, I forgive you," she whispered, bending down to kiss his forehead as she removed his mask. "It makes sense you would think such a thing."

"No, no, you're an angel, I was a fool to think you would betray your vows-"

"Vows? My heart, Erik dear, not _vows_. My heart is yours, is yours mine?"

"Yours, always..."

The baby fussed, and Erik parted from her. She sighed and went to tend to him, using the sing-song voice that made Erik melt.

"Did you sleep well, my little angel?" She crooned, scooping up Gustav. "Won't you hold your son?" She asked Erik. "You haven't since his birth."

"If... that's what you want." Then he added too quietly for her to hear, "Let me replace my mask."

"You want your papa?" She beamed at Gustav.

She kissed him as Erik sat down on the sofa. But her face fell upon seeing him.

"Why do you have that on?" She demanded.

"For the baby," Erik replied, losing confidence at her expression. "I shouldn't hold him without it-"

"He's a baby. He won't know the difference- why do you fuss, my love, what's wrong?" She sighed, "He probably needs to feed again. But don't think you've gotten out of this, you're still holding _your son_ once he's full."

"But he'll spit up."

"Have we run out of laundry all of a sudden? Just change clothes if he does. I've taken to wearing an apron now so I won't run out of dresses, if you're so worried ... Why do you make excuses not to hold him?"

"He's fragile."

"You're not going to drop him."

"He doesn't want to be held by me."

"How do you know that? Has he told you? You've only held him once before, and you were only masked because of the midwife. And of course he cried then; he had been lying on my breast and was taken away from it. But now I don't think he will, not when he's full..." She sighed, "I don't mind you watching him nurse, you don't have to stare at the wall."

"My mother..." he trailed off.

"What about her, Erik dear?"

His eyes cleared, "I think we should take Gustav on a walk, isn't fresh air good for babies?"

"I assume so. But not before you've held him."

"Why must I?"

"Because he is your son and you owe it to me," she snapped, causing Gustav to lose his hold and whine. "Oh, shh, shh, I'm sorry, here."

Erik shattered, removing the black silk, "Forgive me, anything you want, Christine, my angel, I shouldn't have disappeared like that, with the child, and doubted your faithfulness-"

"Shh, it's all right now. I understand perfectly."

"How do you forgive so quickly?"

She laughed lightly, "Because I love you, of course..."

"H-how long does he nurse for?"

"It depends... Why don't you play a bit of music? It's been so quiet in the house I've barely recognized it."

"I composed for the baby."

"That's sweet of you."

"And you, of course... the mother..." he trailed off.

"Are your memories troubling you again?"

"They can be rather obstinate."

"But they are memories, dear, ones that can help you give Gustav everything you should have had."

"And more."

"I want to give him the world, do you think that's too much?" She smiled.

"He already has you... I think he is fine for now."

"I think he's finished, but sometimes he changes his mind on a whim... No, he's full, and now would you be very kind and hold him for me? It'll only be for a little while, I need to be sure the milk settled well in his little tummy."

Erik nodded, as he had gone mute. He sat down on the sofa with his arms extended out awkwardly. Christine had him place a pillow beneath his elbow, then set the baby in his arms.

Erik gasped and whispered, "He didn't cry!"

Christine shook her head, beaming, "Of course not... I'll be right back-"

"Don't leave!"

"I need to use the bathroom, Erik. You would have me burst?"

"O-of course not."

She went through the door to it. Erik stared down at Gustav, tense in fear of him beginning to wail. He only stared back passively with two blue-gray eyes.

When Christine returned, thinking Erik would immediately want to give her back Gustave, she was surprised to find Erik enraptured by the baby, relaxed in awe.

She smiled gently.


End file.
